Welcome to Random
by omigoditschriscolfer
Summary: Random, some-related-some-unrelated mostly Klaine drabbles and one shots. Rated anywhere from K to M, so I'm leaving it at T.
1. Lucky

**A/N: I got bored and... This happened. I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. I just put two separate drabbles together and ended up with this thing that ships everything and makes no sense. The song is called Lucky by the band Hedley. **

**Enjoy (if you can make any sense out of it)!**

"Happy Friday, guys," Mr. Shue greeted as he walked into the choir room on Friday afternoon. He was met with cheers at the mention of the date. They had just finished finals half an hour before, even Brittany sure she had passed. Rachel raised her hand to speak, but her Spanish teacher cut her off. "Before we begin, I understand that Blaine has another song he'd like to perform," the man announced. Blaine nodded and stood up, noticing his boyfriend's confused expression. Despite the two living together—in the same room, even—he had somehow managed to keep this a secret.

"Thanks, Mr. Shue. I just really like this song and wanted an excuse to sing it. That and Kurt won't let me sing it in the house." His reasoning was met with a few laughs from his friends, his boyfriend gaping at the realization of just what song he was going to sing, and he nodded to the band to start playing.

_Hey that's a nice dress,_

_For easy access._

_The way you wear it takes a lot of practise._

As he sang, Blaine pulled Tina up and spun her around, pushing her down into Mike's lap by the third line. The two Asians laughed and kissed each other quickly as Blaine moved up the risers to Quinn.

_I like your lip gloss,_

_Your chained and church cross. _

_You've got the stare of a better better Kate Moss._

The blonde ruffled Blaine's curls (he'd been slushied earlier and Kurt had confiscated all of his hair gel from his locker) and, knowing the next line, turned the boy towards his boyfriend and all but pushed him forwards.

_A lot of work for a little action_

_But it's worth your satisfaction_

Kurt blushed as Blaine did a bit of a suggestive dance move in front of him, eliciting a few giggles from the girls and catcalls from the boys. The younger boy pulled him up and began to dance around him.

_A lot of drinking, a little dancing_

_Gonna get some, gonna make it happen. Hey!_

Blaine started grinding up against Kurt. He pouted playfully when the taller boy pushed him away and crossed his arms in protest, but lost his train of thought when the New Directions began singing the backup vocals.

_(Whoa-oh-oh)_

_Someone's getting lucky tonight._

_Yeah we're gonna have a good time._

Mike pulled Tina up, who reached for Brittany, who refused to go without her slushie and Santana, collectively raising the entire front row with Artie following them. The rest of the group joined them and began dancing around the room, somewhat copying Blaine's dancing with their significant others.

_Hey! (Whoa-oh-oh)_

_Someone's getting lucky tonight._

_Sit back and enjoy the ride._

_(Whoa-oh-oh)_

_You gotta let it ride._

_We're getting lucky._

Blaine began grinding exaggeratedly against a very amused Puck, effectively making Kurt jealous enough to pull him away. Blaine laughed and pressed himself closer to his boyfriend as Puck took over the lyrics.

_Hey Mr. Nice Pants_

_Too bad you can't dance_

_Just put your faith in your rum-and-cola romance_

Puck sang to Finn, surprisingly, but when the drummer took the next lines Blaine understood.

_Yo that's a tight shirt_

_You've got the right flirt_

_So lock it up with the shorty in the white skirt_

As Finn sang the last line, he gestured to Quinn and stood protectively by Rachel. The blonde blushed but went along with it as Puck danced with her the same way Blaine had with Kurt.

_A lot of work for a little action_

_But it's worth your satisfaction_

_A lot of drinking, a little dancing_

_Gonna get some, gonna make it happen._

_Hey! (Whoa-oh-oh)_

_Someone's getting lucky tonight._

_Yeah we're gonna have a good time._

_Hey! (Whoa-oh-oh)_

_Someone's getting lucky tonight._

_Sit back and enjoy the ride._

Blaine and Puck sang the chorus together, then Puck left it to Blaine. The junior, as expected, began flirting with Kurt again. The older boy was now getting into the song, dancing along instead of just dealing with it.

_Everybody grab somebody_

_Put your cold drink down_

_And pick up a hottie_

Santana grabbed Brittany's grape slushie from the girl and replaced it with her hand, setting the cup on the piano and twirling with the blonde in her arms.

_It's a lot of work for a little action_

_But it's worth your satisfaction_

Everyone formed a circle around Kurt and Blaine, singing backup and clapping to the drum beat as the younger boy took lead and the music calmed a bit. The two were chest-to-chest, arms around each other's waist.

_(Oh oh oh oh) Blow your mind_

_(Oh oh oh oh) Blow your mind_

_(Oh oh oh oh) Blow your mind_

_(Oh oh oh oh)_

The boys would have forgotten where they were if it hadn't been for the band. The music resumed it's normal volume and the circle broke, resuming it's random dancing and snapping the couple back into reality.

_Hey! (Whoa-oh-oh)_

_Someone's getting lucky tonight._

_Yeah we're gonna have a good time._

_Hey! (Whoa-oh-oh)_

_Someone's getting lucky tonight._

_Sit back and enjoy the ride._

Blaine chased Kurt up to the wall, effectively trapping him by putting a hand on either side of the older boy's torso. He pressed their foreheads together and sang the last few lines tantalizingly close to his lips.

_(Oh oh oh oh)_

_Gotta let it ride_

_(Oh oh oh oh)_

_We're getting lucky tonight_

_(Oh oh oh oh)_

_Gotta let it ride_

_(Oh oh oh oh)_

_We're getting lucky tonight_

Blaine went to kiss his boyfriend, but stopped when he heard a voice close behind him. They had stopped right beside the open door.

"Fags,"the hockey player slurred before dumping a bright blue slushie on each of the boys' heads. Kurt wiped the drink out of his eyes and opened his mouth to yell at the puckhead who fled down the hall, but Blaine stopped him and pointed at Santana.

The Cheerio had picked her girlfriend's slushie up off the piano and stormed silently after the jock. Once she had caught up to him, she tossed it in his face and promptly started yelling profanities and threats in an odd combination of English and Spanish. Puckerman chased after her, Rory on his tail. The two each grabbed one of her elbows and pulled her back to the choir room.

Everyone cleared a path as a still-raging Santana was dragged in to the back of the room, Mr. Shue blushing at the words Santana was using. Kurt and Blaine fled to the bathroom, avoiding the raging Latina's eyes as she passed.

"Remind me never to get on her bad side," Blaine joked once they were hidden in the boys' room down the hall, Kurt pulling out a miniature bottle of shampoo out of his bag. The older boy let out a laugh and motioned to the sink.

"Sit," he ordered after rinsing his face, "this stuff is way harder to get out of your hair than mine." The junior complied, taking the fold-up chair they had stowed in Artie's stall and placing it in front of the middle sink. He sat down and put his head under the stream of cold water, closing his eyes against the soap.

"Damn it," Blaine muttered, realizing he didn't have a change of clothes. He could practically sense Kurt's eyebrow going up, so he explained that he had been slushied earlier and Tina had helped him clean up. Kurt sighed as he finished rising his boyfriend's hair.

"Take your shirt off," he demanded. Blaine complied, careful not to get any of the blue ice in his curls as he pulled the garment off. Kurt rinsed it off in the sink, adding a bit of the hand soap from the dispenser to get out the sugar and corn syrup.

"Ta-da," he said unenthusiastically as he finished drying the shirt under the hand dryer. "Best you're gonna get." Blaine pulled the still-damp t-shirt back on and looked at his boyfriend.

"So," he began, motioning for Kurt to sit in the chair he had just vacated. "Did you like my song?"

Kurt laughed. "Why do you think I don't let you sing it at home?" he asked. Blaine didn't answer.

"It's because of what my dad would do if he found you singing that to _me_ in his house," the brunet explained after a moment. "He'd jump to all the right conclusions and we'd be dead." Blaine laughed once and splashed a bit of water on his boyfriend's face playfully as he washed his hair. Kurt's smile melted into a scowl and he shivered.

"Cold," he said shakily as he sat up, taking a towel out of his bag and patting his hair and face dry. Blaine just shook his head like a dog, sending water droplets flying in every direction. Kurt changed his shirt, already having one in his bag, and tossed the be-slushied one in the trash can.

"That stain will never come out," he muttered as his top landed in the bin. "You, however, have successfully dyed your entire shirt blue. Congrats." The junior smiled and took his boyfriend's hand.

"Think Santana's calmed down by now?" he asked, using his free hand to fold up the chair and put it back in the handicapped stall. Kurt laughed and muttered something along the lines of "Might have to sedate her," before leading the way back to the choir room.

As the boys walked in, they saw that Santana was sitting in the corner with Brittany and muttering something to herself while Mr. Shue cleaned up the slushie by the door. Rachel was singing for anyone who would listen, but everyone was just talking to each other and ignoring her.

"Okay, guys, let's get to work," the teacher called as he finished with the slushie mess. "So," he began, walking over to the whiteboard, "we need to find a way to raise money for the bus to regionals. Does anyone have any ideas?" The teacher drew a big dollar sign in blue on the board and turned to his students.

Rachel immediately raised her hand, but Rory put up his own at the same time.

"Yes, Rory?" The little Irish boy didn't usually have ideas, but Mr. Shue wanted to give someone other than Rachel a chance.

"I've seen how much you guys get slushied," he commented, standing up and gesturing to the rest of the group, eyes resting on Kurt and Blaine beside him for a moment, "so I thought that we could put up a booth in the gym at the Winter Fair where people pay a few dollars to slushie one of us." His idea was immediately protested (loudly, in Rachel's case), but Mr. Shue spoke up.

"Guys, I think that could be a really good idea," he praised. "What do you mean by 'one of us' though?"

"Well, we could take turns," Rory explained, "including you, Mr. Schuester. There are enough of us to only spend about fifteen minutes each and still be up and running for almost five hours." People began considering the idea, and Finn spoke up in the lapse of noise.

"Puck, Mike, Sam and me could wear our jerseys and it could be 'Slushie the Jocks'," he suggested. "And we could make a fake slushie so it wouldn't be so cold." This idea was greeted a bit nicer than the original, and Tina added her own suggestion.

"And we could confiscate the slushie machines for the day, so no one gets a free pass."

Pretty soon, everyone was firing off ideas as to what they could do. By the time they had to leave, they had come up with the perfect plan: They would sell fake slushies for double the normal price, with full permission from a teacher to hit them in the face with it. They would take turns for fifteen minutes each, going in whatever order they drew out of a hat. With the popularity slushie-ing was gaining, it was sure to be a hit.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the day, and Finn was cornered by Santana, the latter having obviously calmed down. He looked a bit scared, but Santana walked away with a satisfied smirk on her face.

**~o0o~**

"Blaine."

"Mmm."

"Blaine."

"Mmm."

"Blaine Anderson, get your ass out of bed!" Kurt shouted, waking the younger boy so suddenly he fell off of the bed and onto a pile of discarded textbooks on the floor. Kurt stifled a laugh as Blaine flailed, tangled in the blanket that had come down with him. Finally the boy came to his senses and stopped thrashing around long enough to wiggle out of his soft prison. Kurt let a giggle escape his lips. Blaine glared at him, but this just made Kurt laugh louder.

"Why am I in your bed and what time is it?" Blaine mumbled as he flopped back on the bed with an arm over his eyes. Kurt checked his phone.

"Twelve thirty," he announced, acting like a five year old and jumping onto the bed, landing cross-legged. "And you're in my bed because you are an alcohol-intolerant boyfriend who wanted tipsy cuddles last night." He shoved and poked Blaine's shoulder repeatedly, then bounced up and down on the bed when that failed to rouse his boyfriend.

Blaine sighed and sat up with the aid of what he thought to be Kurt's fortieth bounce. "And I thought _I_ was the immature one in this relationship," he muttered when the older boy pulled him up and dragged him downstairs. All Blaine could remember from last night was he and Kurt reading _Harry Potter,_ then the girls and their boyfriends coming over. Santana had a backpack on and Brittany had been holding... Oh yeah. A case of beer. Last night had been the day-after-finals, let's-drink-booze-all-night party that Santana was famous for, and for some reason she had decided to have it at Kurt and Finn's place this year. Well, that explained the headache... And the sleeping teenagers scattered all over the living room. Puck was on the couch, an almost-naked Brittany and Santana were in each other's laps on the floor beside him, Sam and Mercedes were propped up against the back of the couch, and Artie was in the corner with his head on the wall and Sugar curled up in his lap.

Blaine let out a laugh when Finn came out of his bedroom, surveyed the damage, then rushed back in. He was one of the few who hadn't gotten drunk. Finn, Kurt, Rory, and surprisingly Quinn had limited themselves to no more than two drinks each, leaving them buzzed but still able to control their friends.

"Can you go get Quinn?" Kurt asked the younger boy as he began picking up beer cans and cooler bottles. "She's in your room, I think."

Blaine raised an eyebrow at the request and the location, but followed his orders like a good boyfriend and made his way to the guest room that had been dubbed his own even though he usually slept with Kurt.

He knocked quietly before opening the door, smiling to himself when he saw that the blonde ex-Cheerio was cuddled up to Rory in the bed. She had her head on the sophomore's chest, smiling in her sleep as she snuggled closer to the little Irish boy. Blaine didn't have the heart to wake them, so he closed the door and went back into the living room alone.

Kurt had just finished with the area in front of the couch when Blaine came back in. "Where's Quinn?" he demanded, looking up from the garbage bag he was filling. Blaine shrugged.

"Sleeping with Rory." Kurt sighed, partly because the thought of those two was so cute and partly because they were now three men down when it came to helping clean up since Finn wouldn't come out of his room. He slumped onto the couch at Puck's feet.

"We have to get this cleaned up," Kurt muttered, knowing that his parents were to be home by three that afternoon, "and we need all the help we can get." Both boys knew that anyone in the living room would be no help seeing as they would all be hungover, Finn wouldn't leave his bedroom, and waking up Quinn was a death wish. That left Rory. Unfortunately, waking up Rory meant waking up Quinn, and neither of the boys wanted to die this morning.

"Well, we don't have anyone... unless..." Blaine trailed off, his eyes sparkling with an idea. He swiftly grabbed the trash bag from Kurt's hands and made for Finn's room.

Blaine entered without bothering to knock, finding Finn on his bed playing video games with Rachel sleeping beside him, her hair knotted and splayed everywhere.

"Uh... hi," Finn greeted awkwardly as Blaine stepped in front of the TV. The younger boy got straight to the point.

"Come help us clean up or all the party mess gets dumped on your floor," he declared, holding up the garbage bag for the football player to see. His eyes widened.

"Dude, I _just_ cleaned my room!" he stated, gesturing to the nearly-perfect floor. "I—" He was cut off by Blaine dumping about a quarter of the bag's contents onto his carpet.

"Fine!" he yelled, sitting up and flicking off his game. "I'll help!"

Blaine smiled smugly and led the way out.

"Perfect," Kurt said as he spotted Finn. The towering boy sighed and took a black bag from his brother, shoving plastic cups into it from wherever he could reach.

"I'm going to go make some coffee," Blaine announced. Kurt nodded absently and kept cleaning. Him and his brother stayed quiet for a few minutes, taking care to not wake anybody.

"Well," Finn sighed when they were finally finished, "that was a great party, huh?"

**A/N: I had help! Saint Kat Shady (author of Dear Writers of Fanfiction) gave me the idea of the hockey player slushie-ing Klaine and it sorta snowballed from there :D**

**Reviews are magical unicorns. We must bring back the dying breed! :D**


	2. The One Where Kurt's Depressed

**Pre A/N: I'm sorry. I was going to post this yesterday, but I couldn't access the login page. :/ As an apology, I'm uploading three today that have been in my computer collecting cobwebs. **

**A/N: THIS IS WHAT MY BRAIN COMES UP WITH WHEN I'M ON AN ANGST KICK.**

**This doesn't follow canon of anything. Unless it's a spinoff of my Kicked Out-verse, I don't know.(If you haven't read Kicked Out, the only major difference is that Blaine is no longer on speaking terms with his parents and lives at the Hudmel house. Kurt and Blaine share a room. Blaine has his own bed but Burt doesn't really care if he falls asleep with Kurt anymore, as long as they both have pants on. Sam doesn't live with them as of yet.) **

**I'm rambling. Just read the story. Meet you at the bottom! (?)**

"See you later, 'kay, Rach?" Finn asked as the girl in question pulled on her jacket. She nodded and pressed a short kiss to his lips.

"Promise," she mumbled against his lips, gently biting one before turning and opening the door. She skipped outside into the rain, gracefully shutting the door behind herself. Finn put his headphones in, the iPod they were connected to already on full blast. He trekked upstairs, aiming to clean up the mess from their make-out session—the one that went a little farther than expected, as he liked to call it.

He never heard the singing coming from Kurt's bedroom across the hall:

_Maybe I'm better off this way,_

_With one less hole inside my brain._

_You'll never get the best of me,_

_Never again..._

The faint voice trailed off, and a fair-skinned hand flipped the safety on the gun back on. "Not tonight," the boy mumbled to himself, letting the revolver fall to the ground at his feet. "Not tonight."

He had only stopped when he thought about Blaine, his boyfriend who would be absolutely devastated if anything happened to him. He thought about Finn, his brother and the only other person in the house at the moment, who would completely freak out and think everything was his fault if he pulled the trigger right now.

He came to his senses. He needed help. Now.

"Finn!" Kurt cried shakily, throwing on a white sleeveless top that assured someone would see the scars he had given himself a few years back. "Finn!"

The lumbering football player had left—Rachel had forgotten her phone, but had taken her car home. With no way of contacting her, Finn had followed her home.** (1)** Kurt pulled out his own phone and typed a shaky message to Blaine:

_Help. Come home. I need you. _

He sent the text, slid the phone back into his pocket, and sobbed silently into his hands until Blaine arrived.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed as he rushed through the door to their bedroom, his curls slightly damp from the growing storm outside. He sat on the bed and pulled Kurt into his lap, gently putting a hand on his cheek and wiping away a tear.

"Kurt, it's okay, you're fine," Blaine muttered into the shuddering teenager's ear repeatedly, half in an attempt to calm Kurt and half to calm himself. The older boy sank into him, letting Blaine look around the room for the first time since he had come in. He spotted the gun on the floor and stopped his mumblings for a moment.

"Do you have anything else?" he asked after a moment. "Any razorblades, pills, anything?"

"No," Kurt whispered, looking up for a second. Blaine could see the truth of the single word in his eyes, the bright blue orbs glittering with tears not yet fallen.

"I'm sorry," Kurt sobbed, burying his head in the crook of Blaine's neck. "I'm so freaking sorry."

"What for? Nothing happened; you stopped yourself." Blaine took his boyfriend's hand in his own and looked him in the eyes. "What made you stop?"

Kurt took a breath to calm himself. "Y—you. I was thinking about what you and Finn would do if I pulled the trigger. Then I dropped it," he sniffled, looking at Blaine as he spoke.

Kurt began crying again, though it was much less intense than when Blaine had come in. Blaine traced small circles on Kurt's back, successfully calming him enough to fall asleep. **(2)**

**~o0o~**

Kurt had woken up about an hour later, jolted awake by the nightmare he was having. Blaine noticed his little start and sat him up, gathering him in his arms and hugging him close.

"Sing," the older boy requested after a moment, his voice as small and quiet as a child's. Blaine mentally ran through his repertoire, deciding on the song that might make more sense in this context than any other and singing it softly.

_In a time when everything was free,_

_And the whole damn world revolved around me._

_I can't go back and I won't go back to you. _

_To believe somebody else could pay,_

_For mistakes I so carelessly made._

_I can't go back and I won't go back to you. _

Kurt recognized the song—it was the from the same band as the song he was singing earlier. He let the melody he had memorized flood his mind, but cancelled out the lead singer's voice in favour of Blaine's smoother, gentler variation.

_But I can't set free this part of me when I'm crawling back to you. _

_And I won't let you forget how far we've come,_

_Because that one great final mistake,_

_It's the one thing I won't let you make_

_So take my advice, and save your goodbye's _

_I won't let you fall apart on your own, _

_You're never alone._

Kurt snuggled up against Blaine, pressing himself into the younger boy's chest and resting his head on his shoulder. Yes, he was still scared, not only of the storm but what he had almost done earlier. But it only took a bit of comfort and reassurance from Blaine to make the fear all but disappear.

_We've burned the books and made it harder_

_For you to be the fire starter_

_I can't go back _

_And won't go back to you_

Blaine traced the scars on Kurt's arm as he sang those two lines. Kurt got the message: _Don't hurt yourself. _A tear rolled down his cheek silently.

_And as you leave I can't believe it's me I see in you_

_And I won't let you forget how far we've come_

_Because that one great final mistake,_

_Is the one thing I won't let you make_

_So take my advice, and save your goodbye's _

Blaine cut the song off after noticing that Kurt was crying again. "Shh, baby, don't cry," he whispered.

"Thank you," Kurt choked between sniffles. "That helped. A lot."

"No problem. I bet I could pick out at least ten different songs by the same guys that would cheer you up. Can we... talk for a minute about this?" Blaine asked after a moment, resting his forehead on the older boy's. Kurt nodded.

"I haven't done anything since I met you," he admitted. "I've thought about it, but when I thought of you I stopped. And after my dad and Carole got married, I had this big teddy bear of a brother to go to, even if he didn't do anything about anything, and at least some form of a mother back with Carole around.

"I realized, when I told everyone in the glee club I was transferring, that they looked so... hurt. Like I had just taken away their most prized possession and locked it in a safe. I realized that they cared about me so much that they couldn't bear to see me leave. It _sucked,_" Kurt sighed. "The moment I realized I had a support group was the moment after I officially left them. Even Puck, the guy who would have thrown me in the dumpster at the same time the year before, was all for kicking Karofsky's ass and protecting me. I miss them so much..." He trailed off and closed his eyes. "I can't do this any more."

"You need to talk to me about this stuff, not hurt yourself, okay?" Blaine whispered. "I love you too much to let anything bad happen to you. I'll help, okay?"

"Okay. I just... wasn't thinking straight, I guess," Kurt confessed shakily, falling on his back on the bed. He was exhausted, but doubted that he could fall asleep after what had happened, even though it was after 11:00.

"Tired?" Blaine whispered, laying down behind Kurt—who had curled up on his side—and wrapping his arms around the older boy's waist. **(3)** Kurt nodded minutely, snuggling up to Blaine as he started singing again; a new song by yet again the same artist.

_Long steady road, oh travel be kind._

_I'm searching for some peace of mind._

_The home that you know,_

_A home left behind._

_Oh trouble don't trouble this time._

The storm outside let out a deafening blast of thunder, causing Kurt to jump at the sound. Blaine hugged him tighter to his body with one arm while moving the comforter over them with the other.

_And baby don't look back, odds don't stack,_

_They just crumble down, around you._

_You gotta go away if you wanna come back._

_I won't crack, I can't make a sound without you._

A single tear ran down Kurt's cheek. Thunderstorms scared the shit out of him. Blaine wiped it away with the back of his thumb, continuing the song a bit louder.

_And even if it sounds crazy darling, I won't let you go._

_And even if it don't stop raining darling, I won't let you go._

The lights flickered slightly, but came back on after a second. Kurt shuddered again, but Blaine's voice soon took over his mind again and turned it into a puddle of emotion.

_And even if the world's burning darling, I won't let you go._

_And even if it sounds crazy darling, I won't let you go._

Kurt's shaky breaths evened out, signalling that the boy had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. Blaine finished the song he was singing, eventually falling asleep himself.

**~o0o~**

Kurt woke up in the dark. _Pitch_ dark—no streetlights, his alarm clock was blank, no lights from the hallway, nothing at all. He tried going back to sleep, but he was too freaked out.

Then he remembered Blaine, realizing the boy's arms were still around him.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered into the darkness, receiving a shift from behind him.

"Yeah?" The boy's voice was rough, as he had woken up only a few minutes before Kurt had.

Kurt sighed contently, pressing his back against Blaine's chest for comfort. The shorter boy tightened his grip on Kurt's waist, then whispered in his ear.

"Afraid of the dark?" Blaine chuckled quietly, letting his breath ghost over his boyfriend's neck.

"Dark? No. Thunderstorms and blackouts? Yes," Kurt sighed. Him and his mother had been in a car accident when she'd died, slamming straight into a telephone pole and knocking out power for two days in Lima. He was afraid of blackouts because the thought of someone else having the same fate his mother had was something he wouldn't wish on anyone. The storms that caused them were loud and powerful, something no one in their right mind would find safe.

"It's okay, it won't last too long. Even if it does, we could just spend the week at Dalton."

"Do you know what time it is?" Kurt asked, turning his head to look at Blaine in the dark.

Blaine pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time. "It's about four in the morning. Wanna go outside?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No. For quite a few reasons, actually. It's four AM, there's a thunder storm right on top of us that you know I hate, and the damn power's out! Are you nuts?"

"What was your first clue?" Blaine chuckled sarcastically. He rolled off the bed, using his phone as a flashlight. "Well, come on," he whisper-yelled, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him up. He very subtly kicked the gun that was still on the floor under the bed.

"Fine, I'll come outside with you, just shut up! Finn might wake up," Kurt insisted, wriggling out of the younger boy's death grip (It was the first time he had been able to free himself from Blaine's grasp, something in the back of his mind noted, but it could just be because the boy was still half-asleep). Burt and Carole had gone to Columbus for the weekend, leaving Kurt, Blaine, and Finn the house to themselves for a few days (It took quite a bit of convincing for Burt to agree with it, but he caved once Blaine pulled out his puppy eyes).

"Finn never came home; Rachel's dads wouldn't let him drive in this weather," Blaine explained when they passed the football player's room and Kurt noticed the absence of thunderous snoring that could've rivalled the storm itself.

Kurt sighed and let himself be led down the stairs by cellphone-light and Blaine's hand when the phone shut itself off, the younger boy throwing it on the shelf beside the door. He went outside just as Kurt found the flashlight he had hidden under the couch.

"Come on," Blaine beckoned from the middle of the yard, already soaked from the heavy downpour. Kurt sighed, turning on the flashlight and pointing it at the grass so he could see. He stood underneath the shelter on the porch, crossed his arms stubbornly, and watched his boyfriend act like a crazed five-year-old in the rain.

Blaine saw Kurt's reluctance to join him, and so ended up running over, sweeping him up bridal-style, and falling in the grass. The two ran around chasing each other and dancing to a laugh heavy, slightly off-key rendition of Hedley's _Never Too Late _**(4)** courtesy of Kurt until Blaine slipped and fell onto his back.

Kurt straddled him, prohibiting him from getting up again. He pressed his forehead to the younger boy's, giving him a soft kiss and half-laughing, half-yelling at him.

"I," kiss, "will never," kiss, "forgive you," kiss, "for this." By now, Kurt had become just as drenched as Blaine in the few minutes he'd been outside.

"Well," Blaine began, gaining enough momentum to flip over and have Kurt—who squeaked a little at the sudden movement—laying beneath him instead, "I don't think I have a problem with that." He captured Kurt's lips in his own, letting a hand trail down the older boy's body. He found his hand and pinned it to the ground. Smiling evilly, he trapped his other hand and began tickling Kurt's stomach.

"Blaine!" he laughed, struggling to get away. "Stop it!"

A flash of lightning lit up the dark lawn, but for once Kurt didn't care. Ten seconds later thunder boomed overhead.

"You're not scared anymore," Blaine noticed, poking his boyfriend one last time before flopping onto his back beside him. Kurt shook his head.

"Not when I'm with you," he admitted. He found Blaine's hand and held it tightly.

"I wasn't always afraid, you know," Kurt sighed. "My mom and I used to come out in the rain all the time. Even in the middle of the night, I would wake her up so we could go out. Ever since I could get out of my room on my own I've been doing it, but when she died I started hating it." He rested his head on his free hand and closed his eyes. They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain and each other's breathing.

Blaine was the first to break the silence. "My mom used to always say it was angels," he stated, seemingly randomly. Kurt looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, his tone questioning the sanity of the boy next to him.

"Thunderstorms. When I was little, I was scared of storms. Dad just told me to 'man up and deal with it', but mom told me it was the angels in Heaven going bowling. The rain was spilled water, the thunder was the pins being knocked down, and the lightning was the laser lights flashing around and reflecting off of their halos," **(5)** Blaine explained. Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled.

"You are a dork," he laughed, "but you're _my_ dork."

Blaine squeezed his boyfriend's hand and sat up. "We'd better get inside," he suggested, helping Kurt up. They sighed and made their way inside just as the streetlights came to life.

"Uh, Blaine," Kurt giggled as they stepped onto the porch, grabbing the flashlight and sweeping the beam up and down the younger boy's body. Blaine looked down and realized that he was soaked—his t-shirt and sweatpants were clinging to his body almost magnetically and his hair was sticking flat on his forehead. He laughed at himself and looked back up.

"Same could go for you," he chuckled. Kurt's top was now transparent, the thin fabric showing his toned muscles. There was a muddy smear down his side from his shoulder to his knee, and his feet were splattered with murky water and blades of grass. **(6)**

"Shower?" the older boy suggested, still giggling. **(7)** Blaine nodded and led the way inside and up the stairs to the bathroom, flicking the lights back on. Once the door was closed (out of habit), he turned on the water and wrestled his shirt off, laughing at himself. Kurt did the same, tossing his into the sink beside Blaine's. The rest of their clothes followed suit and the two stepped into the shower.

"Oh god, my hair," Kurt whined, resting his hands on his head. Blaine laughed at him and pushed him under the water gently.

"You first, then?" he joked. Kurt nodded and let Blaine wash his hair silently, closing his eyes when a stream of bubbles began trailing down his face.

"Thanks," Kurt sighed when he was finished rinsing his hair out. Blaine smiled and kissed his forehead.

"My turn," he announced quietly. He turned around and felt Kurt's hands in his hair, closing his eyes against the soap and water. They went silent again for a minute until Blaine was mud- and soap-free.

"Much better," Kurt commented as Blaine shut off the water and stepped out. The shorter boy shook his hair out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Kurt rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's childishness, but grabbed his own towel and followed him into their room.

Blaine checked his phone, which he had grabbed from the entryway and thrown on the bed on his way down the hall. He reset the clock to 5:26 AM and left the alarm unset while Kurt put a pair of pyjamas on.

"Blaine, get dressed," Kurt ordered. The younger boy did as he was told and pulled on a pair of blue snowflake-print flannel pants, **(8)** then jumped in the air and landed on his back on the bed with his arms and legs splayed around him. Kurt smiled and rolled Blaine out of the way.

"'Night, Blaine," he mumbled, cuddling close to the boy.

"I love you," Blaine whispered. He felt Kurt smile into his chest as he fell asleep.

**~o0o~**

**A/N: I... have no idea where that came from. Honestly. I've had this in my computer for like seven months. *shrug***

**(1) I needed to get Finn out of the house. Plus he seems like the kind of guy that would follow his girlfriend like a lost puppy if she forgot something. Meh. **

**(2) I CANNOT END THINGS. It always ends up either being a cliffhanger or someone falling asleep. *pout***

**(3) I am addicted to Klaine cuddles. Or just cuddles in general. I hug my mom's boyfriend whenever I see him (he's actually where I got the 'giant teddy bear of a brother' idea)**

**(4) Just imagining Chris Colfer laughing his ass off while singing that song makes me smile. Him singing it while chasing Darren Criss around makes me start giggling uncontrollably. Him ****singing it, laughing, chasing Darren, **_**and**_** doing it all in the middle of the night in the rain would ****kill me. I'm writing this from the grave. :D**

**(5) I don't know where I got the angels idea from. Don't ask. **

**(6) Just... I needed some Kurt hotness. Admit it. You liked it. :D**

**(7) Me: Say no say no say no... **

**Blaine: Yes. **

**Me: Fine. But no sex. **

**Blaine: *pout***

**That is literally what it was like in my head when I wrote that. **

**(8) Based off of the pj's that I'm wearing right now. I also have them in red :D**

**Songs: **

**I Don't Believe It by Hedley;**

**Can't Go Back by Hedley; **

**I Won't Let You Go by Hedley (... again.)**

**I'm sorry. I literally had only Hedley and Glee songs on my iPod when I wrote this. :/**

**I'm going to a Glee after school program at the end of the month. Literally. It's only 4 Monday afternoons, but still. **

**Description in the Parks & Rec catalogue:**

"**This exciting new program is loaded with learning the skills it takes to take centre stage! During this session children will learn a few small group songs as well as a few large group numbers. Weekly activities will include: song memorization, basic choreography, vocal technique and learn [sic] what it takes to be in a hit TV show like GLEE!" **

**I seem to be liking the word "literally" today. **

**Okay, enough rambling. **

**GOODBYE. **


	3. The Hunger Games Crossover

**A/N: Basically unedited with an abrupt ending. I might add more later and put it here; I don't know. Full crossover featuring Caesar, Mags, Finnick, and Annie from THG and Jesse, Finn, Klaine, and Quinn from Glee. **

The frilly woman on the stage smiled. I hadn't bothered to learn her name; it was her first year doing the reaping. I'd learn it in time. "Ladies first," she announced brightly, making her way towards the glass reaping ball. I chanted silently in my head that it wouldn't be Quinn or her little sister Emily. My thoughts payed off.

"Kathryn Golde," the woman on stage announced. I sighed in relief as the girl—easily the most well-fed and strongest seventeen-year-old in District Four—made her way up the steps. She brushed off the guiding Peacekeeper's hands, knowing the route to the stage after having spent so much time playing on it when we were younger. Kathryn smiled broadly and faced the audience.

"And now the boys," the chipper lady on stage announced. She crossed the stage and dug around for a name. Once she had one, she made an extremely slow trip back to the middle of the stage. I wished that it wouldn't be me or him.

"Blaine Anderson," the high Capitol accent read, and I froze. Blaine's hand, which I had been holding over the seventeen-year-old and sixteen-year-old barrier rope, squeezed mine.

"Don't do anything stupid," he whispered in my ear. He let go of my hand, kissed my forehead, and walked slowly up to the stage. I couldn't have done anything, anyways. I was frozen completely.

I don't remember much else of the reaping itself. I remember small details, like the Mayor stuttering during his speech—which was always saved for last in our District—and how Blaine, being Blaine, had refused to shake Kathryn's hand and had instead bowed respectfully to her. Mostly he didn't touch anyone but me.

Once we were let go, I made a beeline for the Justice Hall. I was one of Blaine's few goodbyes—both of his parents were dead and his brother lived on the other side of the District.

"Blaine," I sighed as I saw him. I felt his strong arms wrap around me as I sank into his chest. I felt more than heard him sobbing, one hand stroking my hair while he whispered what I thought to be comforting words into my forehead. I don't know; I never heard them.

"You have to come back," I whispered finally. I looked into his teary eyes and my hand automatically moved to my wrist.

"Your token," I stated quietly. I handed him the bracelet I had taken off—a thin rope chain held in place by a tiny anchor, with two bronze heart-shaped charms. Each was a locket. One had my picture, one his. I secured it around his wrist.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine choked. "I'll do whatever I can to come back to you, okay?"

I sniffled and nodded. "Okay. I love you."

Blaine smiled. We sat on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms until the Peacekeeper came for me.

"See you soon," I heard as the door shut behind me.

I really hoped he would.

I suddenly had an idea. Finnick, the tribute mentor, was walking toward the car that would take him, Annie, the other mentor, the escort, and Blaine and Kathryn to the train station. I spotted him in the crowd and tried to get his attention.

"Finnick!" I called, waving him down. "Finnick!"

"Kurt, right?" he asked as I fell into step beside him. I nodded and grabbed his arm to stop him for a moment, pulling him out of the crowd.

"You have to make Blaine your priority," I hissed. His eyebrows shot up questioningly and I continued. "That Kathryn girl can survive off a goddamn _puddle_ if she has so much as a nail. Blaine doesn't have that kind of training or skill. He's good-looking enough that if—" I shuddered a bit at the word, "—he survives the bloodbath you'll be able to charm your way into getting him sponsors if he gets a score anywhere above a three in training. Kathryn will ally with One and Two, but Blaine doesn't like other people enough to trust them with his life..." I trailed off for a second, but snapped out of it when Finnick tried to pull away. "Please?"

He looked at me for a second before nodding. "Okay. I promise." I sighed in minute relief and let him go, watching him look at me one last time. Blaine caught my eye from behind him and winked. I laughed at his expression for a moment before remembering that I _shouldn't_ be laughing when my boyfriend was going to be sent away with a one-in-24 chance of coming back.

By that time, though, he was gone.

**~o0o~**

"Morning, Mags," I greeted the old victor a few days later. After the reaping, she'd hired me to help her out. I don't know why; maybe because working my job at the docks was getting tedious and I was getting sloppy. Maybe she felt sorry for me, seeing as my boyfriend had just been sent away for slaughter. Maybe I was just good company while Finnick and Annie were away. I don't know; I never asked.

"Morning," she responded. On second thought, it might have been the fact that I was one of the few people who understood her heavy accent, something between Capitol and Four, that she'd hired me.

I grabbed a duster off of a shelf, but the old woman shooed me away. "It's a day off for you, honey," she smiled. I nodded in response and stepped into the kitchen.

"Day off," she said again when I started pulling out a bag of flour. I laughed.

"I know, Mags. I want to make cookies." Mags nodded and sat at the table beside me.

"It's interview day, you know," she said quietly. I sighed.

"Yes, I know," I mumbled, scooping sugar into a bowl. One of the perks of my mother having been a baker was that, despite her dying half my life ago, I knew this recipe by heart.

"I've been talking with Finnick, boy. He says that your Blaine is very skilled." I looked up at her, cocking my head to the side.

"There was a spear in the training center. He threw it forty yards on target. Only Annie saw, but she told Finnick and said it was quite impressive."

I smiled and went back to my cookies. Blaine, ever the outcast, would almost always be found out in the tiny wooded portion of our district with wooden spears, aiming for the tallest leaf on a tree and always hitting it.

I put my cookies in the oven and cleaned my hands off, sitting on the couch. I really liked Mags' house; it was much more homey than I'd first expected. Even though it did have a bit of a Capitol look to it—fancy appliances, 24-hour electricity, and working water—she'd put a lot of the sea look in. The walls were almost the same sea-green as Finnick's eyes, the hardwood flooring was made out of driftwood, you could find sand in almost every corner (I was told not to vacuum it away when Mags first hired me; she said it reminded her of her family), and there were little anchors almost everywhere.

Thinking of the anchors, my heart broke a little bit. My hand went to my wrist, but my bracelet was in the capitol with Blaine, the one with the locket pictures of me and him.

Mags must have seen the look on my face, because when I looked up from my lap she was sitting beside me with a piece of paper in her hand. I unfolded it and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Where'd you get this?" I asked, looking at the picture. It was slightly water stained, but I could still see Blaine's and my faces clearly.

"Your brother gave it to me. He said he had it with him when he was working on the docks, but that you could use it a whole lot more right now."

I had forgotten. Finn had gone through a little stage of depression when he'd found out his father died of a drug overdose, and I'd given him the picture because the reminder of having a family helped him. He always had it in his pocket.

"Thanks, Mags," I whispered. I checked the clock and stood up, tucking the photo into my pocket. I went back into the kitchen and took the cookies out of the oven, setting them on the counter to cool.

"They're going to give the training scores now, boy," I heard Mags say from the living room. I poked my head out and caught a glimpse of Caesar Filckerman's bright orange hair, laughing at it's ridiculousness. I sat on the couch again beside Mags and stared at the screen.

The boy from One got a 9, his female counterpart scoring 7, both from Two getting 8, and the boy from Three making 6.

"Nikki McDougal from District Three got a 5," Caesar announced. My heart raced as Blaine's face flashed on screen and I crossed my fingers.

"Blaine Anderson from District Four got a—oh my," the announcer cut himself off, sounding extremely surprised. "Blaine Anderson got a 10," he continued. My mouth dropped open and Mags hugged me around my shoulders as Blaine's picture winked cheekily and a 10 flashed in front of him.

"Oh my god," I squeaked. I didn't pay any attention to the other training scores.

"Your boy might actually have a shot at this," Mags said in my ear.

I smiled.

"Remember to tune in for the tribute interviews later tonight," Caesar reminded the audience. "Happy Hunger Games!"

"I'm going down to the docks," I said quietly. I packed the cookies into a plastic container and put a few aside for Mags, who shook her head and handed them back to me.

"Give them to your sister, boy," she suggested. I smiled, thanked her, and left the house quietly.

I walked the few blocks from the Victors' village to the docks, where all the fishing boats were currently being sent out.

"Jesse!" I called to the tall nineteen-year-old that worked with Finn's crew. He poked his head over the side of a boat and I threw the container up to him.

"Thanks, Kurt!" Jesse smiled. "I'll give these to Finn!"

"Some of them are for you, too," I offered. He laughed and tossed the container into the air, catching it easily.

"Really?" he chuckled. I smiled; Jesse's family lived in the lesser part of town, whereas mine was closer to the square. They usually couldn't afford treats like cookies.

"Yep. But share!" I called after him as he fled below deck. I shook my head and continued down the boardwalk to the end, hopping into the smallest boat beside Quinn.

Quinn wasn't my sister, but she was as good as. We had grown up as neighbours, in the same grade at school and best friends. I handed her a cookie out of my pocket and she smiled. I unhooked the boat and pushed it out into the open water.

Neither of us spoke, nibbling on cookies and staring at the horizon line. It was usually like this on our lazy days, minus the cookies unless they were stale or burnt. Quinn eventually ended up laying down on the bench with her head on my lap as I sang a quiet song to myself.

_Listen to my lullaby, _

_Let the ocean soothe you to sleep. _

_Dream of peace, of a new day, _

_Of friends you wish to keep. _

_A faraway land where things are better, _

_Where you will stay all night, _

_And when you wake you will remember, _

_This paradise in light._

"I remember that song," I heard Quinn say softly. "My dad used to sing it to me when I was little."

That wasn't why I was singing the song. I used to sing it to Blaine all the time when we were little. His parents had just died in a boating accident and my parents had taken him in. He had been sleeping in my room and had a nightmare, so I sang him the song and we'd been inseparable ever since.

"Blaine's going to be fine," Quinn whispered, sitting up. I rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes.

"You don't know that," I breathed.

"You're right. I don't. But I know Blaine, and I know that he'll do anything to get back home to you," she sighed. She kissed my forehead and looked up at the sky.

"We'd better get back," she suggested. I did the same and we got back to the dock in about fifteen minutes.

"I have to go check on Emily, okay?" Quinn asked, helping me tie the boat back to the post. Emily was her sister, a little blond twelve-year-old with the bubbliest personality I'd ever seen. I nodded and hugged her.

"Thank you, Quinn," I whispered. She hugged me back and we went separate ways, her to the town and me back to Mags' house.

The old woman was sitting idly on the couch with a ball of yarn, weaving it around her fingers expertly and knotting it in such a way that if you pulled one end of it tight, the beautiful blanket it made would stay together, but if you pulled it at the wrong time, the whole thing would unravel. I sat beside her and watched her fingers work, slipping my hand into my pocket. My hand caught on something that hadn't been there before, and I pulled it out to see what it was.

My hand was tangled in a thin white rope with a charm identical to the one I'd had on the bracelet I'd given to Blaine, though this one was about two and a half times bigger. I opened the locket and saw a neat square of paper with "Open me" printed on it in tiny letters.

_Finn told me you had a new picture, but didn't say where you were going to put it. I found this charm at the little jeweller's shop in town when you first made the bracelet. I guess they were originally sold in sets. I didn't know what I was going to do with it until Blaine got reaped. Now I know you need it more than I do. _

_~Q_

I smiled and folded the note up again. Quinn must have slipped the necklace in my pocket when I'd hugged her. I took the picture of Blaine and I out of my pocket, folded it so it would fit in the charm, and secured it around my neck.

Mags looked up at me and smiled as I tucked the charm under my shirt. She continued with her blanket and I watched her, memorizing the pattern. I don't know how long we sat there, but eventually the clock struck eight and the tribute interviews began.

Diamond and Angel from One played sexy and seductive respectively, while Logan from Two was threatening and his female counterpart, a tiny thirteen-year-old, was absolutely adorable. Three didn't really leave a lasting impression. Kathryn seemed eager to get the interview over with, as far as I could tell, but nothing else really caught my attention.

Once Kathryn left the stage, Blaine was introduced and my eyes were glued to the screen. He was wearing a skin-tight white shirt, pants the exact same shade as the ocean, and a matching blazer with a sequined-on wave pattern around the bottom third. The only makeup I noticed was an odd colour of eye shadow that made the gold flecks in his eyes stand out.

He and Caesar had a little exchange on how much better Blaine said the seafood was here than in the Capitol, then Caesar asked a question to start the interview.

"You are quite a handsome young man," he commented, pausing for cheers of agreement from the audience. Blaine laughed and shook out his hair, which had been gelled back so only a few curls showed at the back. The movement loosened it enough that more curls sprung free, now making it look like he'd just come from a swim in the ocean. To put it short, he was _hot._

"Is there a special girl back home?" Caesar prodded. Blaine shook his head.

"No, Caesar, there isn't," he smiled. "Sorry, ladies," he said to the audience in a mock whisper, "but I don't swing that way."

Everyone laughed and Blaine continued. "I do have a special someone back home, though. His name is Kurt, and I've lived with him since my parents died when I was six." He reached over for my bracelet and opened one of the charms. "Here's a picture of him."

The camera zoomed in on the photograph and I smiled. The audience sighed and swooned.

"Did you say goodbye to him?" Caesar asked. Blaine nodded.

"He was my only goodbye. I haven't seen my brother since I moved in with Kurt's family." More sighs from the audience.

"Well, if you win this thing, you can go home and be with him for the rest of your lives," Caesar laughed. The buzzer that signalled the end of three minutes sounded and Caesar and Blaine said goodbye.

"I miss him," I whispered to Mags, pulling Quinn's locket out from under my shirt. The old woman patted my shoulder and layed a finished blanket on me.

"Rest, boy," she whispered comfortingly. I nodded and layed my head down on a pillow, drifting into a restless sleep.

**~o0o~**

The next few weeks were _hell. _The cameras shooting the Games followed Blaine up until he reached the midpoint of the forest, his arm bleeding from a gash the boy from Two gave him. His District partner, Hanna, died in the bloodbath, along with both tributes from Eight, Nine, Ten, and Twelve; the girls from One and Six, and the boy from Seven. Half gone in a day, and I had no idea where my boyfriend was.

On the third day, the tributes from Three got in a fight and both died after giving each other major injuries. Still no sign of Blaine, but Kathryn joined the Careers as I'd expected. They took out another two on the fourth day, leaving the three of them, Blaine, the boys from Five and Six, and the girls from Seven and Eleven.

On the fifth day, something unexpected happened. The first shot of Blaine since the first day, and he was sitting with the girl from Seven.

"It must suck," Blaine mumbled around a mouthful of food. I noticed a silver parachute next to him, filled with fresh Capitol bread. Looks like Finnick took my advice, because that would be ridiculously expensive if he were spreading out between the two of them.

"What?" the girl asked. She had a handful of strawberries on a leaf in front of her, which she crushed with one hand and spread on her share of bread for a makeshift jam. Blaine swallowed his food.

"Not living near water. At least in my district, you're guaranteed a bath every day," he laughed. The girl shrugged.

"It helps to know what kind of tree is what in this kind of arena. And I can do this." She hopped up onto her feet and scrambled high into a tree, getting thirty feet up in seconds. Blaine laughed.

A rustling of leaves on the opposite side of the tiny clearing they were in brought both of them back to reality. The boy from Six stopped in his tracks as he ran up to them, fear very clear in his eyes until he dropped to the ground four feet from Blaine with a knife sticking out of the back of his skull.

Blaine's spear was through Angel's stomach before he could process the fact that there were other people there. The boy fell to his knees and two cannons fired, one for him and one for Six. Blaine stood frozen until the girl from Seven dropped to the ground, pulled out the spear, and dragged him away.

"Blaine! Blaine!" she said loudly, trying to catch his attention.

"Alexis?" Blaine responded quietly. "What just happened?"

"You killed One. We have to get out of here before—" Alexis was cut off by another cannon. And another. "Run!"

Blaine followed his orders and ran as Alexis grabbed a hatchet off of the ground, swinging it behind her just as the boy from Five threw a dagger into her chest. She used the last bit of her strength to throw the hatchet at her attacker, landing it clean in his forehead as a fifth cannon went off. And then a sixth; someone dying from battle wounds no doubt.

"Alexis," Blaine sighed. Her eyes searched around blindly until they settled on his and she fell to the ground.

"Blaine, it hurts," she panted. Blaine shushed her and kissed her forehead.

"You win," she whispered. "Make it fast."

And with an expert hand, Blaine snapped her neck. The final cannon went off and trumpets sounded. The hovercraft ladder dropped, Blaine held on, and the screen faded out to the commentators.

"He won," I whispered, staring at the TV screen. Finn's arms wrapped around me tightly and he whispered in my ear.

"Dude, we get our family back," he laughed.

**A/N: ... Graphic. I'm also posting this as it's own crossover story, so look for updates on that, too. :D**


	4. Lazy Italian Blaine

**A/N: Lazy Italian Blaine. I literally have nothing else to say about this other than I've had it in my computer for at least 7 months. **

I looked out the window of the hotel and on to the crowded street below. Why did my parents bring me here? All they did was leave me to my own devices in the city, while they went and did who knows what. I decided to get some fresh air, but was too tired to walk up and down the stairs just to walk around aimlessly. Scratch that, I was just being lazy.

I chose the next best option—sitting on the windowsill. I did this all the time at home. I knew how to keep my balance and fall inside if I had to. It was easy.

The window slid open effortlessly, and I climbed out with my feet hanging over the street. A group of tourists turned and saw me. Then started gaping and pointing, attracting more attention from passing residents and other tourists. I rolled my eyes.

"_Non ho intenzione di saltare. Non sono così depresso. Come lo siete stati, niente da vedere qui,_" **(1)** I yelled down, naturally saying it in Italian as I had been in the country for a few weeks now. The tourists gave me questioning looks, the native Italians raised their eyebrows but payed me no further mind, and the vendors beneath me knew me enough to know that I wasn't suicidal.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not going to jump," I explained. "I may look like a wreck—" I gestured to my wild mess of curly hair and obviously tired face— "but I would never do something like that."

The tourists looked at me again, but soon ended up doing the same thing as the others and ignoring me.

"_Nic!_" I called down, getting the man's attention. "_Posso avere una ciambella?_" **(2)**

Nic laughed, then called back up. "_Si dovrà pagare per questo, Blaine. E 'solo 2 €._" **(3)**

I nodded and went back inside, digging through my pockets to find the coin I needed while rigging the little basket on a string I had. Nic and I had a little thing where I would ask for something like a doughnut, put the money in the basket, and he would swap it out once it was lowered out the window. I tend to get lazy on vacation.

Soon enough, I had my doughnut. "_Grazie!_" **(4)** I called down again, hearing another laugh in response.

**A/N: All translations come from Google Translate. **

**1. I'm not going to jump. I'm not that depressed. Nothing to see here, as you were.**

**2. Can I have a doughnut?**

**3. You'll have to pay for it, Blaine. It's only 2€.**

**4. Thank you!**


End file.
